Awake
by musicnotes093
Summary: Agent Ziva David is assigned to protect Timothy McGee, a disabled college professor who is a star witness to a murder. While she spends time with him, her eyes are opened to an understanding of the world around her and a different perspective to a matter she had been toiling to avoid. AU. McGiva.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** _"Awake"_

**Rating:** FR13

**Genre:** Alternate Universe, Drama, Romance

**Pairing(s):** McGee/Ziva

**Summary:** Agent Ziva David is assigned to protect Timothy McGee, a disabled college professor who is a star witness to a murder. While she spends time with him, her eyes are opened to an understanding of the world around her and a different perspective to a matter she had been toiling to avoid.

**Notes:** I got this idea after watching a video about a mother talking about her disabled son. I hope you guys enjoy!

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"_I am asleep, but my heart is awake."_

—_Song of Solomon 5:2_

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**Chapter One **

Ziva trudged across the campus ground, unaware of the surprised stares from the students catching the whiplash of the anger radiating from her. She searched around for her person of interest, but her lividness won over the best of her. Tony was supposed to be picking up the witness. It was _his_ turn. However, he somehow managed to convince Gibbs on clearing him off the task, and he had volunteered her instead for the two-hour drive.

When she confronted him after being given the assignment, he reasoned that he and Jeanne, his girlfriend for almost three years, were going to celebrate their anniversary tonight. Of course, irritation instantly filled her. There was another sensation that gnawed inside her heart, but she had long ago reserved nothing but ignorance for it. It was better to kill it by not paying any attention to it rather than test herself by acknowledging it.

Her mind automatically veered to the case they have at hand. Captain Emilio Burns had been found dead at a parking lot two days ago. There weren't much to work with. The only laceration found was one clean stab at the back, and because it was Greek Week around the campus, no one was able to identify any odd occurrences—which may either be because the students were too busy holing away from the noise or too inebriated to care. No surveillance videos were available; they were being replaced by new ones the day of the incident.

The team was convinced, though none spoke it aloud, that the case was soon to be declared cold.

However, a call came in this morning from a college professor who said that he knew who the culprit was and how everything happened. He promised to cooperate if he was guaranteed protection. He said to meet him on the campus, where he would wait under a big tree.

Two yards from where she stood, under the shades of an oak, on a bench, lightly slouched a sandy-haired man. Her eyes arched while she examined him as she approached. "Professor McGee?" she asked.

The man sat up straighter. "Yes," he said, turning to the source of the voice.

"I am from NCIS," she clarified.

It visually eased him from discomfort. "Oh. Well, that's good," he said before resuming his watch of the landscape ahead. He closed the book on his lap then transferred his cane on the other side of him. "Why don't you sit down for a moment? You must be a little tired from the drive."

Ziva responded by reluctantly taking his offer, although his refusal to acknowledge her fully by removing his sunglasses didn't make a good impression. "So you called about Captain Burns?" she inquired.

"I did," he said, still fixated on the view ahead. Then, he smirked. "Although, to be honest, your voice sounds better in person than in the phone, Agent Gibbs. You sounded a little hoarse. I probably called too early, huh?"

Ziva grinned. "I'm Agent David, Professor. Ziva David," she cleared. "Agent Gibbs sent me here to get you."

"Ah," was all he said before he subtly froze in defense.

Ziva took notice. She understood. "There's nothing to be worried about," she assured. She drew out her badge from her pocket and showed it. "I have this to prove it to you."

He didn't move. Instead, he snorted out a chuckle, but Ziva heard it as a scoff. "Okay. Yeah, he _did_ send you," he said.

It revived the vexation inside the Israeli. Still, five years of training in the agency prevented her from mistakenly retaliating with something acid. "Do you really know who did this?" she asked casually, unable to help herself.

The smile on the man's face degraded into a mere ghost. "Unfortunately, yes," he nodded. "Jealousy can do so much to a person. Lio was a good student, very polite, would have been successful at being a JAG—which he told me was his dream, but it's not going to happen anymore." He paused, unknowingly deepening the sting to Ziva from a word in his statement. "This is the least I can do for him."

"Why did you only come to us today? Why not the night of?"

"Because I wasn't sure," he answered, deflecting the frustration in her words. He knew it was not directed to him. He smiled when something occurred to him. "Wait. Aren't you supposed to interview me when we get to the Navy Yard? This is a little unsafe."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, incredulous of his perception of the matter.

He shrugged. "I've had my share of crime procedurals," he admitted.

Ziva's eyes lessened into slits, but she quickly shook her head to rid of it. They would arrive at NCIS late lingering like this. Gibbs would be waiting. "This is not to intimidate you," she said. "We just have to make sure that what you know is really what we need for this case."

"Do you doubt me?" he asked, his face devoid of any expression.

"I do not know," Ziva answered. "But one thing I do know is that the sincerity of your words is lost by you choosing not to look me in the eye while you wear those dark sunglasses."

"Sometimes you have to see past what your eye shows you."

"Well, it would have been a start if you did," responded Ziva, irked by him.

"But I cannot ever look at you," he said.

Her features curved into that of shock and indignation. _If he tells me it is because I'm—_

"How can I?" He finally turned fully towards her direction, and then he removed his sunglasses. His eyes, orbs in a lackluster hue of emerald and untrained to what was in front but only to what was ahead, melted Ziva's anger and shifted it into remorse. He smiled lightly. "I'm blind, Agent David."

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**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Special thanks to novrov, smithknk1, watashi wa kyo2, Becky, rya13, nutellandreams, torontogirl12, mmkbrook, Asheanex, RedDragen, Depresnjak, MU1992, moms5thchild, and two other guests! :D**

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**Chapter Two**

"What else did you hear?"

Tim breathed deeply. "A few of my students had told me that Lio and, um, Lieutenant Benjie Hough frequently argued," he explained. "It's usually Benjie who starts the argument, though. They had fought once in my classroom, right before everyone came. Benjie was confronting me about his failing grades. I explained that he really hadn't been present in the class, and that warranted him the low marks. He pushed me, and I hit my back on the table. I don't really know what he was planning on doing next, but Lio came and helped. That started the argument."

"Does Lieutenant Hough have a history of violence?"

His features wrinkled thoughtfully. "I think so, yes. He's gotten into three fights since the semester started. One during Jung Hae's party, another with Yaris Ferguson at a football game, and the last one was with Darnell Fray, I think. That one, they fought because he was really drunk and he was intimidating Lio and his girlfriend. Darnell was just kicking him out. Benjie took the first swing. People saw."

"How do you know all of this, Professor?"

He smiled. "As I have said, Agent Gibbs," he replied, "I'm close to a few of my students. Sometimes I even think they see me as their counselor. They would talk to me about different matters, and those information I shared with you were the least sensitive from what they would tell."

Gibbs made no answer. He gazed down at the photographs sprawled across the manila folder he carried with him earlier, even though he knew long beforehand that it would be of no significant use in his interview with their witness. He was still unsure if they could rely on this person to convict the suspect. He trusted what the kid said; he just didn't know how to make the jury feel the same.

"One thing that would give Benjie away is his nickname for Lio," Tim spoke, acknowledging what the sudden silence must have meant. "He calls him Millie, which is how he kept referring to Lio when they were in the parking lot." His eyes cast down. "There are only a few instances where I really regretted being blind, and this was one of those. I could have helped him."

"There's nothing you could have done," Gibbs said quietly. "If you got into it, he would have killed you, too."

"It's probably better than hearing Lio in agony for a few seconds and have his silence tell me I've done nothing to protect him back," Tim said.

The sincere sorrow that shadowed his smile was enough incentive for Gibbs to go through with the case. "Professor McGee, you are aware that by doing this, your life would be in danger? Hough is still missing, and he may have known you saw what he did."

"Yes," the young man responded, his grasp on his cane subtly tightening.

"And you're willing to go into protective custody and cooperate fully?"

"Very. It's the least I can do for my student."

Gibbs nodded. "You will be escorted by Agent David and Agent Fletcher today," he said, standing up. Tim followed his voice and lifted his head up. "You may gather some of your belongings—"

"No need," Tim said. "I packed my things last night. They're in the trunk of Agent David's car. I loaded it earlier, hope you don't mind."

Gibbs paused, surprised by the young man's uncanny preparedness. _Would've made one heck of an agent,_ he thought. "I will keep in touch, Professor. We'll give you an update as soon as we find Hough," he said. Then, he glanced at Ziva, who stood by the door with Tony. She straightened up, while her partner continued gaping at their witness with curiosity-narrowed eyes.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," Tim said simply.

Gibbs strode out of the office after gathering the file, bypassing his two agents who had begun leaning closer to each other.

"Do you really think he was there when it happened?" Tony asked Ziva quietly. "I mean, come on. You gotta admit that his condition would lose some of the credibility in his statement in court."

"Don't be such a jerky, Tony," Ziva responded as silently. "His story checks out."

"First of all it's 'jerk', Zee-vah. Not jerky. And still," Tony mumbled. "It's pretty ironic that our star witness can't even see."

"I'm blind, Agent DiNozzo, not deaf," Tim finally spoke out.

Tony's eyebrows wrinkled. "How did he hear us?" he hissed to Ziva.

"May I suggest that you mouth your words?" Tim turned towards the corner where he heard the voices, and his eyes fell only an inch away from where the two stood in surprise. "I can still hear you."

Tony raised his eyebrows, while Ziva smirked. "Daredevil much?" he mumbled.

Tim smirked. "That's why I carry the cane," he responded, and then he tapped the leg of the chair beside him with his cane twice, causing the clashing metals to ring.

The frown on the senior agent's features deepened. "May I talk to you outside, Ziva?" he asked while eyeing Tim.

Ziva turned to follow him when he stepped out, the amused grin on her face bright. "As soon as Agent Fletcher comes back, we would be going to the safe house," she dutifully informed their witness.

"Okay," Tim said, his smirk shifting into a genuine smile.

Ziva stepped outside then closed the door behind her, still fascinated with the small banter that took place.

Tony shifted uncomfortably. "Hey, look. I don't have anything against him, and I'm not downplaying him because of his situation," he explained. "It's just—I just want this case to be over with, you know? And I trust this McGee guy, I really do. I just don't want to run into any problems and take more time with this."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at his odd behavior. "You seem jittery, Tony," she commented. "Is there anything wrong?"

"Wrong? No, nothing wrong," Tony said then grinned nervously. "It's just the weekend after next coming up. I wish it'd be over."

Ziva wondered what made the upcoming break different from the others. Usually, her partner wouldn't be this ecstatic or apprehensive about it. Had she forgotten something? Mayhap a trip, a party? The traces of inquiry vanished from her mind when a reminder lit up. It was even replaced by nonchalance combined with hopefulness. "Is it because of the dinner Abby invited the team to?" she asked.

She was convinced that the increased tension wrapping Tony didn't exist only in her imagination. "Yes," Tony responded. He stared at her deeply. He sighed. "I have something to tell the team," he spoke gently, as if a word amiss could give away the secret his statement held. "To tell you."

The mystery that echoed in his voice and the anticipation in her heart shocked her. However, she had enough control to subdue it to false non-existence. "Me? Why me?" she asked as if she was clueless.

Tony smiled. "Because you have to know," he said simply. "You and I have been partners for years now, and I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who knows that we're going to have to come to this."

Ziva heightened her sensitivity to her reactions. She smirked. "That you owe me a big amount of money?" she asked.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, yeah, no," he shook his head.

"David?"

Ziva swiveled towards the source of the call. "Agent Fletcher," she said.

"Are we cleared to go?" Fletcher asked.

"Yes," Ziva nodded.

"Alright." Fletcher made his way around them to go inside the Conference Room.

"See you later, Probette," Tony told Ziva.

Ziva watched him as he jogged away before going back inside. She didn't want to think much of their conversation, but her natural instinct to guess was difficult to defeat. What could it be? To what she remembered, they have already settled their conflict borne from Michael's death. They have concluded any animosity harbored when they discussed about the split in Israel. What else was there?

It would be a lie to say that she had not the least bit of idea what it may be. Perhaps it was just that she was avoiding admitting what she thought. After all, it was inane. Tony was happy with Jeanne. Why would he discuss an interest he was developing different from hers?

Might it be marriage, that Tony was planning to get married? She had mixed opinions and emotions about it, but then again that may not be the case. _Knowing him, he's probably just going on a cruise with his college friends,_ she smiled to herself.

"Agent David? Agent David? Did she fall asleep?"

"No. Hey, David."

"Ziva."

Ziva looked around after Fletcher, who drove the Sedan through the gloomy streets of downtown Seattle, nudged her. That she sat in the front seat of a car that instant caught her unaware. "Yeah?" she said instead, hiding her confusion.

"He asked you a question," Fletcher said.

Ziva looked at the rearview mirror to see their passenger. "What is it?" she asked.

"_A Midsummer's Night's Dream_ by William Shakespeare. I was just asking if you've read it," Tim said. "Just a conversation starter, but you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Hmm," Ziva brooded. "I do not think I have. Read the book, I mean. But, I am not much into weighty romance. It is only a fantasy made for young people."

"There's much more to the story than that, Agent David," Tim said. "It's just the highlight, but the other contents might be much closer to reality than you think."

"I agree," Fletcher commented while he veered the car to the left.

Ziva frowned at the driver, while Tim smiled. "Since we are already out here," she said instead, "will there be anything you need from the store?"

Tim pouted as he thought, and a glance of it had Ziva raising her brows. "I _am_ a little hungry," he said.

Ziva turned her head towards Fletcher. "We could stop by a restaurant," he said. "There's one half a mile from here."

"Anything else?" Ziva asked. "Food will be provided regularly. Uh, what about cigarettes?"

"I don't smoke," Tim grinned.

"Beer?"

"Wine's my poison of choice, but I drink that very rarely. I doubt I'd need any."

"Are you sure you need nothing, Professor?"

"Yes," Tim answered. "And can you please not call me 'Professor'? That makes me feel out of place."

"Alright," Ziva said. "What shall I call you?"

"Timothy would be fine," he said. "Or Tim. Whichever have you."

"Okay, Tim." She leaned back, raising no more questions. She glanced at the mirror again, surveying Tim. There was something about him that intrigued her. His friendliness was refreshing, she must admit. It was very rare that people under protection like him would be warm and cooperative. Of course, he was the one that called, and he was in danger. Surely he acted so because he needed the favor. Yet, his demeanor was something different, his manner oddly familiar.

This thinking could fade away in a few days, especially after she was out of whatever mood she was in because of her conversation with Tony. On the other hand, it could not, and strangely enough she was leaning on the latter.

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**To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to SmellyThePirate, mmkbrook, and HaRRy-POttEr-OBseSseD-2011-O.o for leaving reviews last chapter! I also see a lot of interest through follows and favorites, so thanks to all of you who added this story to your list! :D**

**One thing that I feel like I need to clear up is that I'm not targetting Tony for bashing. It's not my intention to offend anyone who likes him. He's one of my favorites in NCIS, but it just so happens that in this story, he's presented a little negatively only because of Ziva's actions and emotions towards him. And, as we'll find out, he's not the only one who will be 'flawed' as the story progresses ;)**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

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**Chapter Three**

Ziva sauntered inside the safe house, brown paper bags clutched in her hands. The emptiness of the neat living room, added with the television's endless droning, welcomed her. She headed towards the counter and placed down her load there. Her eyebrows wrinkled. Fletcher told her before he left that he was inside the house, and usually, when she came, he would be listening to a show. "Where is he?" she muttered to herself.

She jumped up, highly alert, when the backdoor cracked open. Her wariness was pacified when she noticed that it was only their witness.

"Oh, there you are, Agent David," Tim said as he carefully walked in. He carefully took a whiff of the air, and the aroma drew a smile on his lips. "Chinese," he inched towards her, using his cane to guide him through. "You remembered."

"How did you know it was me?" Ziva asked, amazed.

Tim sought for the food by letting his hands pass along the counter, where the mouthwatering scent was the strongest. Soon, he grasped a bag. He drew it closer to the sink, where he washed his hands. "I smelled a medley of coffee, Giorgio Armani men's body spray, and Lavender lotion," he answered, drying his hands. "The last one gave you away. You'd been wearing that scent since the first day we met. Oh, and the food, too. You asked me two days ago what I wanted to eat today, and I requested this. You got it. Thank you."

"You remembered that?" she asked.

"Of course," he smiled while carefully opening the cupboard above the counter. He took out a bowl after finding the small stack, and then he placed it near the bags. Pulling out the drawer for the silverware, he asked, "You ate lunch yet?"

"Yes. I guess."

"Really? What did you eat?"

Ziva thought about the less than satisfying food she took in. "Nutter Butters," she responded.

Tim laughed heartily. "Nutter Butters are good, but it's not what you call lunch," he said. He opened the cupboard again for another bowl and took another set of utensil. "Here. Why don't you join me?"

Ziva regarded the offer with uncertainty. "I do not think that's a good idea. The lunch I brought is good for one."

"Oh, please," he wrinkled his eyebrows. "When did Chinese restaurants ever serve food that's only good for one? Or any restaurants for that matter?" He flashed a charming grin. "Come on. I know you're hungry, and it will be good to talk to someone for a change."

Ziva's mouth watered, her tongue anticipating the flavors, as she contemplated about how to reject the offer without lying. "Thank you, but I am not hungry," she said, failing.

Then, her stomach groaned.

She avoided his eyes, afraid to see the forthcoming snicker.

However, the only answer she received was the set of bowl, fork, and knives handed to her. "You hold these, and I'll take the bags," he said before carefully walking around the counter to the living room. "I can't be trusted with anything that breaks. I seem to always hurt myself."

Ziva rushed to aid him as he drew closer to the one step down to the living room. "Careful," she told him, holding him gently on the arm.

Tim passed through successfully. "Thanks, Agent David," he smiled after he felt her let go.

"Welcome," Ziva said. "And Ziva would suffice."

"Okay. Ziva then," Tim decided contentedly. He sat down on the couch then, after sitting the paper bags on the coffee table, lifted out the small takeout boxes one by one. "You know, you're much more personable than Agent Fletcher. I can barely carry a conversation with him. Even that's limited to updates on the case, which is good and all, but it's gloomy and foreboding. So I just watch TV. I think he even sighs in relief when I do, because that means he doesn't have to talk to me."

The light pout that resurfaced on his lips, along with brows knitted in pensiveness, made Ziva chuckle in delight. "Oh, it's not just you," she said. "He is that way to almost everyone."

Tim started to divide the food.

Ziva helped him. "I find him awkward, but Abby says he is just like that," she said before she began eating. "I guess he decided not to be woman slayer anymore."

Tim choked on a grain of rice. "He kills women?" he asked after surviving a violent coughing fit.

Ziva looked at him. "No," she said slowly. "Well, he probably had before, when he chased after stubborn criminals who are women. Other than that, he's very respectful of the good ones."

"Then why was he called a woman slayer?"

Ziva shrugged. "I mean, he does look very good, and I am sure he could sweet talk women if he wants to," she said.

Tim paused as he thought. "Ziva, maybe you meant 'lady killer,'" he said.

Ziva was silent for a moment. "Was that the term for charming men?" she asked.

"Yes."

Ziva played with her food. She surrendered from overthinking it by shaking her head. "English is a very confusing language," she declared resignedly.

Tim nodded. "It is," he conceded. He argued first whether he should ask his next question, seeing that it may be offensive. It had touched some of his students ill when he inquired of it, and he didn't want to make the same mistake. "Ziva, I hope you do not mind me asking," he commenced tactfully, "but where are you originally from?"

"I lived in Israel until I was twenty-five," Ziva replied.

"You've been to America since then?"

"Yes."

"Do you miss home?"

A word in the question impeded her. Home. She had ceased calling it that for so long now that she had forgotten about it. "No," she replied dryly.

Tim was able to sense the hostility in her voice. He chose not to push it. "Most of my students tell me that one of the things they miss a lot is the food," he said, veering some distance from the subject. "I can imagine. I'm pretty much open to any food, but I'm sure that if I live in a different country, I will miss fries, mac and cheese, and ice cream." He grinned. "Sounds like healthy diet, huh?"

Ziva gazed at him morosely. It shocked her when a silent chuckle bubbled from her, borne by the grin that subtly mimicked the other person's.

Her low laugh delighted Tim. "You should cook your favorite dish sometimes, Ziva," he said. "I would love to taste it."

"Cooking is not part of my job, Tim," she pointed out, smiling.

"Why not? It will be nice. We can eat while we sharpen your English skills."

Ziva scoffed. "How are we going to do that?"

"We'll play a game that I used to play with my sister when she was little, right before she competed in Spelling Bees."

"And what game is that?"

"It's called Word," Tim responded. "How that goes is, I'll give you a stack of cards—I think I have them in my briefcase still—, and then I will start by saying, 'Word.' You'll tell me the first word you see on the stack, I'll ask you, 'Meaning?', and then you'll have to give me a one-word definition. I'll tell you if it's right or wrong, or give you a supplementary synonym."

Ziva battled the urge to laugh. "I am sure you drove your sister insane with that," she commented.

"I did," Tim admitted, "but she won the National Spelling Bee because of that game."

"I am fairly confident I would not be entering that game soon," Ziva said.

"No, but it'll help you with your vocabulary, and I can adjust it a bit so we can go over some terms and idioms. To get Agent DiNozzo off your back," Tim smirked. "Plus, I need the practice, too. I think the stay here is robbing my word bank of some words."

Ziva gazed at him. "Sure," she accepted. "Tony had been getting on my nerves so much."

"Hm. And it's about time you show him up," Tim said.

Ziva tilted her head. "Meaning?"

"You show him what you can do," Tim responded.

A wily smile stretched across Ziva's lips. "Sounds good," she said.

"Okay," Tim said. He continued eating, both of them silent, as the television rambled on. "You can change the channel if you want to, Ziva."

Ziva turned to him before glancing at the enthusiastic crowd cheering in the program. "But it's Family Feud," she said. "I thought you liked that show."

Tim hitched a shoulder. "They'll replay it again," he said. He sought for the remote then handed it to her when he found it. "Don't you like CSI? I heard it on earlier when I was channel surfing."

Ziva frowned at him. Then, a thought tugged a side of her lip. _If only Tony was as gentlemanly as you,_she pondered. "Thanks, but I can't get distracted," she refused politely. "Not when I'm supposed to watch over you."

"Hm. Good point," Tim said. "Maybe next time?"

"Maybe," Ziva said mysteriously.

Tim smiled. The sound of Ziva's voice, the ring of her laugh, and the hints of bitterness then longing echoed through his head, and it made him wonder. _How do those read on her face?_"Ziva? What do you look like?" he asked.

Ziva was slightly taken aback. She shifted towards him. "Um, I have long, curly black hair—but not too long," she said, thinking of how Tony had described her to his cousin over the phone once. "I have brown eyes, a regular nose, kind of thin lips." She paused for more description. "I have an oval-shaped face."

Tim smiled as he imagined, and the expression it produced somehow made Ziva feel good about her simple looks. "You sound beautiful," he said sincerely. He lifted his right hand. "May I?"

Ziva nodded. "Sure."

His fingers came in contact with her skin no sooner than she expected, but it still jolted her veins with unexplainable electricity. He was gentle, careful not to touch her in a way that she would feel even the slightest fear. She smelled the jasmine scent of the handwash he used when he traced her lips. Afterwards, he caressed her face then cupped it. She caught herself leaning into his warmth, so she quickly remedied the situation by taking a hold of his hands. However, it became another problem when she got confused on whether to pull his hands away or whether to hold it in place longer.

In a moment of panic, she forced herself to do the former.

"You're very beautiful," Tim said as he lowered his hands.

Ziva smiled.

"But if you just let go of the things you shouldn't be holding on to, I know you'd start to believe it more," Tim added.

Ziva shot her eyes towards him. Retaliation was the first instinct that throbbed within her, but the deep concern in his eyes disarmed her. His eyes beheld no light, but how could he see? How could he know?

These perplexities intensified when she felt the ghost of his touch lingering in her cheeks, which led her to question her own motivation and emotions.

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**To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you to mmkbrook, HaRRy-POttEr-OBseSseD-2011-O.o, 68luvcarter, FuTuRE 4NsChIk, SmellyThePirate, jarno, and a lovely guest for your reviews! They're very encouraging (especially STP's comment-thanks a lot, love! ;) ), along with the alerts and favorites that this story has gotten so far! :D**

**Please enjoy this next chapter!**

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**Chapter Four**

"Aw! Ziva!" Tim laughed. "Come on. Why would you do this to me?"

After five more days, the search for Lieutenant Benjamin Hough settled into a relative standstill. Abby kept tabs of the accounts that the suspect had, and there were no activities. None of his loved ones or friends was contacted, either. It was as if he had vanished from the face of the earth, and the team acknowledged that it was the deadliest of scenarios a witness could find himself in.

Gibbs doubled the protection for Tim and heightened the effort to find Hough. Because of the latter, Ziva had been asked to work more in the bullpen, thus spending much less time that she had grown accustomed to with Tim. Meanwhile, Agents Fletcher, Corey, and Mars, who vocalized how 'adorable' and 'interesting' she found the professor, took a fuller charge on the guarding duty.

A twinge of jealousy marred Ziva's support for this setting.

She talked to Gibbs about it, reasoning that she was better suited to be with Tim since he seemed to be more open to her than to anyone else, which was true. He was uncomfortable whenever other agents would ask him questions about Hough and Burns, but he was calm, therefore willing to talk, when she interrogated him. The team leader thought about it and soon after, she was granted night shifts, though only with another member of Fletcher's team.

She was satisfied, even if her conscience bothered her about the real underlying reasons: that she was threatened by Agent Mars' attraction to Tim—though this she denied for the fifth time—and that he, she admitted, piqued her interest to the point that he was more vivid in her mind when he wasn't with her than when he was.

Nonetheless, those moments when they were together, whether they played, talked, watched TV, eat, or do something nonsensical—like building Legos he brought with him while they sat on the floor of the living room—, seemed to always become the highlight of her day.

"Because you're showing me up!" Ziva laughed as she scattered the dismantled pieces.

"You know, you using an idiom on me? It's nice, but you're still not forgiven," Tim said, gathering the pieces to a new structure. "Maybe I should call Agent Fletcher in. Let him act as a referee."

Ziva collected parts for herself. "He's on duty," she waved the thought away.

"And you're not?" Tim asked.

"I'm with you, am I not? That is my job. Keep you safe. Hough as much as come twenty feet near you, he would wish he had never been born."

"You'll accomplish that with what? Legos?"

"Do not underestimate me. I can get creative when I need to be," Ziva smirked.

Tim chuckled good-naturedly.

Ziva watched him while he started locking in the blocks. "Why do you have these, anyways?" she asked, resuming her own work. "It is not very common for men your age, in your profession, to have toys with them."

Tim smiled upon recollection of a childhood habit. "They belong to my sister. Sarah? When she was little, she would always ask me to build her a princess castle," he narrated. "I would when I had time, even if I thought it was too girly. But after some time, I found out that that relaxes me, and I have a knack for building things." He snickered. "I even dreamt of being an engineer once. But it's never going to happen." He sighed. "Anyways, I guess it's just something I keep with me. Sarah wouldn't let me tell another living soul, but whenever she comes to visit me, we'd still play it. Two grown people, still building Legos."

Ziva mimicked the joyous expression on his face. "I do not think anything's wrong with that," she commented.

"Well, thanks. Glad you don't think I'm crazy."

Ziva finished her wall for the house they were building by attaching two more pieces at the top. "Why did you choose to be a teacher?" she asked out of curiosity.

Tim shrugged. "Because I love traveling through different worlds," he answered plainly. "I don't waste much energy doing it, either."

"Is that why you wrote novels?"

"Yes. I also did it because of the thought that I can affect other people's lives. You do that, you know. A reader comes out different from when he opens the book to the first page to when he closes the back cover. All of that, in three inches of space."

The amazement that filled his eyes garnered him more fascination from the woman across him. "I have to ask," Ziva began, "and you may choose not to answer, but how long have you not have your sight? Were you born blind?"

The bitterness that curled Tim's lips sharply severed her heart. "No, I wasn't born this way," he answered.

"What happened?" she asked quietly.

"My father bought me a car a month after I turned sixteen," he answered. "One night, he told me to make a run to the store to buy cold medicine for Sarah because she was sick. It was snowing outside, and I didn't want to go. He told me to man up, and I'd be okay. Went to the store reluctantly, and I got the medicine and some other things for my sister, but on the way home, I didn't know that the snow turned to sleet. I, uh, slid a bit past the line on an intersection after hitting a red light, and a small truck rammed into my car."

Memories, vaguely painful, flooded in his mind. "My parents had a choice: cut the support and let me die, or take a chance with me, but I'd be blind the rest of my life." He paused. "They both agreed on letting me live. I woke up, heard them talking, but I couldn't see them. It all felt like a dream, sometimes a nightmare, and I just wanted to wake up."

Ziva absorbed the emotions in his answer, and she saw the situation play in her mind only that instant, it was her, her father, and what happened in Somalia taking place as the story. Long buried anger simmered within her as mist of tears poisoned her darkened orbs. "Have you ever wished they chose otherwise?" a voice sounding like hers asked.

Tim thought about it. He smiled. "No," he said.

"Why."

"Because if I died, I wouldn't have learned to appreciate the other things I have." Ziva stared at him. "I have my mom, Sarah, Penny—my grandmother. I have this job, and even though it takes a lot of effort to keep it, I like it. And, I think, if I had died then, I wouldn't have been in this room building a house of Lego with you."

Ziva smiled at that, and it allayed the anger in her.

Tim knew. "A story may not have a good beginning, but it's the rest that really matters," he said.

Ziva grinned while her brows knitted. "Why do you always speak like Yogi?"

"The bear?" Tim asked.

"No. The rolled up green ball with hair and who wears a robe and has a bad grammar."

Tim grinned. "The quote was from Mr. Ping in Kung Fu Panda 2." He waved a hand when he sensed her dart an inquisitive glance towards him. "My cousin's daughter forced me to sit with her while she watched," he explained. "And second, it's Yoda, and I'm pretty sure he didn't look as disgusting as you described him when I saw him last. Though, you are pretty accurate with his grammar."

"That's what he looked like to me," Ziva mumbled. She secured the wall with the other that he made, and then she started a new one.

Tim chuckled, shaking his head.

"Are you in a relationship, Tim?" Ziva asked casually, busying herself with the blocks in her hands.

Tim halted momentarily. "Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason," she said in feign nonchalance. "I just think you would make a good man for a lonely woman. You're very…"

"Talkative, annoying—"

"Interesting, and gentlemanly," Ziva corrected him. "You're handsome, too."

Tim scoffed. "No, I'm not," he said.

Ziva rolled her eyes. "I'm sure the women you had been in a relationship with would disagree," she said.

"I wouldn't count on it," Tim said. "I've only been in two relationships my entire life."

"Two?"

"Yep," Tim answered. "One when I was fifteen and one two years ago."

"What happened?" Ziva chuckled.

"Georgia said she can't be with me anymore after she found out I would be blind, which was bad because I had a crush on her since first grade and I'd just had the opportunity to date her," Tim recounted. "Angel was the same story, but still a little different."

"Mm? How?"

"Angel and I dated for about a year. She's wonderful, very nice most of the time. I was set on proposing to her, but then when we were at our date, she asked me to read a poem she wrote for me. It wasn't in braille, I couldn't read it, so she broke up with me."

"That is terrible," Ziva said sympathetically. "She is heartless!"

Tim laughed when he heard her reply. "I was kidding," he declared. "She didn't make me do that."

The expression on the agent's face soured. She hit him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"That is not funny!"

"I was kidding!" Tim defended himself.

Ziva shook her head, upset.

"Anyways, she had legitimate reasons for leaving me," Tim continued after he settled down. "She was in love with someone else, and one of my students told me that she had been seeing him a month before she told me. I asked her why she did that, and she apologized. Then she said she never thought we ever had a future together. Actually, she said she never _saw_us being together for the long haul, and neither did I."

Ziva locked her jaws indignantly. Should she meet that Angel one day, she would love to have a serious talk with her.

"Speaking of," Tim changed the subject. "What about you and Agent DiNozzo?"

An ice skidded down her spine when the question came up. "What about me and Tony?"

"Are you two married?"

"Of course not," Ziva replied too quickly.

"You're in a relationship?"

"No."

"Are you in love with him—"

"Tim," Ziva said warningly. "No. What is with all of these questions?"

"Just asking," Tim said, surprised by her reaction. He shrugged. "It just seems like you're very taken away with him."

"I am not," Ziva said. "We are just partners, and that is that." She bolted down another wall with a block. "Plus. He has a girlfriend, and he loves her very much."

Tim understood what she meant by the things she didn't say. He knew he was in no place to call her out on it, especially since he had not been too honest in his sentiments, either. "Love is a poor man's remedy for loneliness, Ziva," he chimed in atonement .

Ziva raised her eyebrows. "Really. And what are you?" she smirked.

"I? I am a very, very broke man."

"So you need it?"

Tim smiled mysteriously. "I want it, but in time," he said. He handed her the roof—or what resembled one—that he had finished.

Ziva accepted it. Then, she fastened it to complete the house they were building. "Well, you and me both," she replied as surreptitiously.

They smiled, both unable to detect the reciprocation of their emotions that gained more and more meaning as they sat in silence.

Ziva sat up, regarding the floor pensively as an idea came to her. "Tim? Do you think, if things were different, that we would have known each other?" she asked.

"You mean if we'd meet?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Probably," Tim guessed. "If I still have my sight, I would have tried for something else. My father always pressured me to join the Navy, but I don't think it's for me. But, I would have tried to compromise, and I would have probably joined NCIS, joined Gibbs' team, since all of you are good at what you do."

"Then if I still served as a Mossad Liaison after Agent Todd died," Ziva added, "I would have met you."

Tim smiled. "Yeah," he said contentedly.

"Do you think you and I could have…?" Ziva narrowed her eyes, wondering.

"Been together?" Tim asked. He pondered over it. "No," he said disappointedly. "We would have been good friends. Just that."

"Why?"

"It seems like you like Agent DiNozzo from the very start, and I think that however you twist the situation, you would still feel the same way," Tim said. "All I would have done is to help you to be with him."

"Even if you like me?"

"_Especially_if I like you," Tim admitted. "Because whenever I see you hurt, I would have done something to make you happy, even if that means I'd have to give you up."

Ziva grimaced. She didn't know the plausibility of these things, but one thing she did comprehend was that it irked her how she seemed to be bound to Tony, even in this make believe world. It didn't help that the person she had started to like was turning her down because she was still smitten with another man. "I would have given you a chance," she said quietly.

"No. You wouldn't have noticed me," Tim spoke his mind, suppressing the ache he felt by saying it. "As long as he's in your mind, like how he is now, and as long as you're sacrificing everything else for him, even if you know he'd never acknowledge it, it would be impossible. You won't be capable of loving someone like me."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not Tony." Tim slumped in discouragement. "Ziva. I will never be him."

Ziva nodded decisively. She pushed herself up from the floor and then walked towards the door. She was not entirely sure whether she was hurt because he seemed to have unknowingly given up on her, that he suggested that she wasn't capable of discerning which or who matters more, or that, deny as she may, what he said was true. She glanced at him to formally tell him that she was leaving, but his clouded features revealed that he recognized her absence.

The night outside blew a breeze that was much colder than it ever had been. Fields that stretched out towards the dark horizon reiterated that, though a battle raged in her mind, she was alone and swallowed by the placid obscurity. A part of her wanted to come back inside and apologize for leaving, but logic forced her to stay, convincing her that her—and his—heart could use a break tonight.

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**To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks DS2010, dani, moms5thchild, mmkbrook, Kushie, SmellyThePirate, and unilocular for very heartwarming reviews!**

**One more chapter after this before the end! :(**

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**Chapter Five**

The discovery of Lieutenant Hough's recent activity had a good and a bad timing. Ziva had a legitimate reason to stay away from protection detail for a few days, which was advantageous since she didn't want to face Tim after their discussion. She was uncertain whether it was borne from her fright when she realized that he read her like an open book every time they were together, or the afterward response of anger that emanated from her opinion of invasion of privacy. Both were forceful enough to keep her away and have her desire to see him again in check.

On the other hand, from the minute that Tim's student aid revealed that Hough had asked her where the professor was, she had been wary about his well-being. Agent Fletcher and his team had been more than capable in protecting witnesses, but the sickening anxiety that wormed through her heart unsettled her. Not only that, but Agent Mars had been enthusiastic with spending more time with Tim and letting other people know about it. She would regularly report to Gibbs about the basics of what had been taking place, but whenever _she_ would inquire how he fared, the woman would curtly repeat her plain report and walk away.

To add to all of these, Tony had been dropping more vague hints about the revelation at the dinner that weekend, while Abby, whose eyes betrayed that she knew exactly what it would be, pushed on discussing about how 'little Probette' liked the 'cute professor.' She also advised her to open her eyes and admit that she was smitten with him before cryptically adding, "Be fair to yourself. He's the one who understands you and likes you very much. Don't wait on someone you know had been gone from the get-go."

Perhaps it shouldn't be surprising at all that the whirlwind of forethought and confused urges carried her to the dinner table at the safe house, tapping her hand at the glass while she listened to the shower in bathroom run for five more minutes before it died.

She lifted her head up, her eyes wandering at the door where he would exit. She couldn't tell how long it took for the knobs to turn open. Nonetheless, she stood up when he came out of the shower wrapped in a bath robe, observing him while he dried his hair with the towel slung on his shoulder.

She guessed he felt her gaze, because he stopped in his track and began turning his head.

"Who's there?" Tim asked bravely. "Agent Mars? Is that you?"

Ziva chuckled. "I am a little disappointed you did not recognize me this time," she commented.

"Ziva?" Tim wrinkled his brows. "I…I didn't. Why do you smell like—"

"It is not important," Ziva said. "Look. I think we need to talk."

Remembrance dawned upon his features, and for a moment Ziva thought that he was going to kick her out of the house. On the contrary, he walked to the kitchen, where a faint presence of her lingered. "Agent Fletcher said you guys had been busy since you found out that Hough had been asking around for me," he said. He smiled widely. "You really don't have to explain anything. Agent Fletcher's team had been more than pleasant, especially Lori. She had been very attentive to me. It's uncomfortable sometimes, but don't tell her I said that."

Ziva drew closer to him. "You know that is not the reason why I wanted to talk," she said.

The grin on his face slid off gradually. "If this is about the other night, I'm sorry," he sighed. "I shouldn't have called you out on what you feel for Agent DiNozzo. It's none of my business."

Ziva lifted up her eyes. "Never apologize," she said. "It's a sign of weakness."

"That's…" Tim frowned, "stupid."

"Gibbs' rule," Ziva shrugged.

"It's still not right," he pointed out. "And it's not applicable to me. I have done you wrong, and the least I can do is apologize for it."

"It is not necessary," she admitted, "because you were right. I—" She paused. "I am attracted to him. Which I cannot understand why, because he upsets me the most. He is annoying, talkative, childish… He is a woman's worst nightmare."

"But he fascinates you."

Ziva nodded in defeat. "I really wish he didn't," she continued. "I thought we would be like this for much longer until one of us says something. Then Jenny put him in that undercover assignment, and he fell in love with Jeanne." Her gaze lowered to the ground.

"Did you ever tell him?"

"I would have. If he had let Jeanne go when she tried to blame him for her father's death, I would have."

"But he didn't."

Ziva shook her head. "He didn't." She looked up. "Because he was still in love with her, and I told him to go after her."

Tim nodded sympathetically.

"One thing I've wished was that I would have an idea whether this, whatever this is between the two of us, is mutual."

"Have they married?"

"No," Ziva responded, "but I think they would consider it soon enough."

Tim knew that he would later agonize himself by advising her. It was a one-way ticket to that proverbial friendship zone, but he deemed it important that he did it nonetheless. "It's not too late," he stated reluctantly. "You still have a chance to let him know."

"That's the problem," Ziva said. "I'm not sure I want to bother anymore."

Confusion carved his face, but in every crease there lied a mist of hopefulness.

"I had enough time to think matters over, and there's one thing I would like to know." She stepped ever so near to him. "If in that other world, other time, you wanted me and I wanted you, would you have told me?"

Tim's heart drummed madly against his chest, and for a minute he worried that Ziva would hear and misinterpret it. However, her presence and his desire to take this opportunity produced in him the courage and calmness he needed to speak his mind. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Good," Ziva smiled. "I was counting on it." She ran a finger through his cheeks before cupping his jaw with her right hand. Then, she pulled him to her, kissing the lips that she had found so lovely from the start.

Before he could lose himself in the moment, Tim's sensibility drove him to draw back. "This is not…What are we doing?" he whispered breathlessly.

"Something we should have done three days ago," Ziva answered before kissing him again. He was hesitant at first, and she sensed it through the bolts of electricity exhilarating her. Then, he kissed her back. Suddenly, she was aware of more things, like how warm he was, his pleasant scent that made her world tilt on an abnormal axis, and that his touch, when his arm gently wrapped around her waist, pushed her to the brink of her sanity.

She was in bliss, and she never wanted it to end. She ran her fingers through his damp hair as she kissed him again, ensuring that he would reciprocate. He did. She succeeded.

Yet, soon after she found her lips resting against his cheeks after he turned slightly away.

Catching his breath, Tim shook his head. "I can't," he breathed. He pulled back a little, though it seemed to him as if he had drawn back a mile. "We can't."

Ziva looked at him in bewilderment. "Why not?" she asked.

"I like you, Ziva. Very much," he assured her. "But not like this."

"What do you mean?"

"You're drunk."

Ziva regarded him with blankness. "No, I'm not," she chuckled nervously. "I just had a few to drink, that's all."

"Still. This is not you. At least not completely." He halted. "I'm happy to know that you like me, but I can't risk that you may just be heavily inebriated and don't really feel this way towards me. I want to make sure."

Ziva's head dropped lower.

"And, I need you to be able to remember that I admitted that I feel something for you," Tim said. "In whatever universe we could find ourselves in."

Ziva said nothing.

"It's only fair for us."

Ziva looked at him. "Okay" was her simple answer. Then, she started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" he inquired after she walked past him.

"Home," she said.

Tim held out a hand. "Why don't you stay?" he asked. "Just for tonight."

Ziva only stared at his tempting offer. The smile on his lips made it hard to resist, but his less than logical reaction—for her, at least, repelled her from his invite. After one last look, what her instinct dictated forced her into a decision.

**. . .**

Ziva was awakened by the stubborn vibration of her phone and the unbearable pressure building in her temples. With a groan, she shielded her eyes with her forearm from the assaulting light beaming from the slivers between the curtains.

She sought desperately for her phone, which had started to get the better of her nerves. When she found it, she flipped it open then answered hostilely, "David."

_"Do you know what time it is, Zee-va?"_

She quickly consulted her watch. "It's just nine in the morning, Tony. And it's Saturday. We're off," she replied impatiently.

_"What happened to the five in the morning run?"_

"What do you want?"

_"I stopped by your apartment, and you weren't there. Where are you, anyways?"_

"I'm at the safe house," she answered faster than she could stop herself.

Tony was silent for a few seconds. _"Oh,"_ he said knowingly, and Ziva could just see the grin on his face. _"So Abby was right! You had a thing for the professor. You know, Gibbs won't be too happy when he finds out what's been going on with you and the star witness."_

"That is none of your business, Tony." Ziva sat up weakly, and it was then that she realized that she was still wearing the same clothes she had the night before. She tried remembering what had happened, but all that the effort brought her was a wave of dizziness that required her to rest her head on her other palm. She sighed.

Tony chuckled quietly.

"What?"

_"I really thought at first that you're sneaking up there because of Fletcher,"_ he said.

"You jump into conclusions too much, Tony," Ziva said. "The relationship between he and I are strictly professional."

_"Whoa. Getting an idiom right and proper grammar. You're really into McGee, aren't you?"_

Ziva rolled her eyes, unknowingly according the blush that bloomed on her cheeks with a smile.

_"Don't make Fletcher too jealous now,"_ Tony mock warned.

"Well, he should not be expecting much," she quipped. "I'm only here because of the case. Nothing more."

_"Nothing between the two of you, then?"_

"As much as you insist on it, he and I are not meant to be. He is a nice guy, but I don't see him as my type. I don't think he sees me as his, too."

_"Alright,"_ Tony surrendered. He said no more.

His unspoken agitation unsettled Ziva. With her eyebrows creased, she asked, "Is there any certain reason you called me, Tony?"

_"Like I said. I was just checking up on you."_

She was unconvinced. "Are you and Jeanne having problems?" she asked. She heard his hesitation through the phone. "There is no use denying anything to me."

_"It's nothing unusual,"_ Tony said finally. _"I just…I really wanted her to come to dinner at Abby's house, and she doesn't want to go."_

"Why not?"

_"She's still a little shy around the team, I'm guessing. Anyways, Abby had called her and told her it was okay to come, but that didn't change her mind."_ He paused, reluctant to continue again.

"I will talk to her," Ziva volunteered. She swung her feet out of the bed.

_"No. You're already there. Stay with him. He needs you."_

"But you need me more," Ziva said. The absence of a hidden meaning in her response surprised her, and she wasn't sure whether she should be glad or skeptical. She hung up, deeming nothing else as appropriate to do.

Standing up, she only then noticed that she was the only one in the room–and had been ever since last night. The rest of the space in the bed where she didn't lay in remained undisturbed. The familiar cane was not there nor did the house shoes she was accustomed to seeing.

A smile formed on her lips. She recalled going to a bar last night and having a few to drink. She got in her car to go where instincts led her, and she was glad she came at the safe house. Tim didn't take any advantage of her, and that increased her affinity to him.

What she was worried about, although, was what she had done before she went to bed. There were vague glimpses, like the table, the sliding door, a hand entwined with hers. Then again, there was no telling these weren't just part of her dream.

_What_ did _happen last night?_ she wondered.

She sauntered out of the room, fishing out the car keys from her pocket. Although the hangover she was nursing was antagonistic to the light of the day outside, she could not deny that it was a good morning. A cool breeze blew through the house, and the birds outside chirped with joy that only the best of dawns could bring. It was a perfect time to brew some fresh coffee and sit down with Tim to ask what happened and apologize for what she might have done.

The muffled locking of the back door called her attention. She sighted Tim on the other side of the door, seemingly distraught. She stepped towards his direction, intent on talking to him about what bothered him.

"I think it's best if you leave now, David."

The iciness and disappointment Ziva detected in Fletcher's tone halted her and turned her around from her course. It troubled her more to see those emotions magnified tenfold in his features. _Did he hear me and Tony talking about him?_

"I don't have to tell Agent Gibbs about your stop here," Fletcher added firmly. "Just go. Now."

Her brows wrinkled. It was something else that moved him to ask her to leave. As to what it was, she could not pinpoint. She glanced back at Tim, who had now occupied one of the chairs outside, before turning back to Fletcher.

Left with no choice, she walked out of the house and headed to her car, with the worrisome expression on Tim's face embedded in her memory.

She glanced at the clock on her car after turning on the engine. 9:14 AM. _Jeanne should be off her shift in about the same time I arrive at the hospital._

Stay with him. He needs you.

But you need me more.

Ziva rested her hands at the steering wheel, gravitated back to the house. She didn't need to explain anything to Fletcher. She was more than willing to defend her actions to Gibbs.

Yet, the thought of missing Jeanne and letting Tony be discontented kicked up within her a habit of coming to his aid. She pulled out of the driveway and merged into the road with the hospital as her destination. Maybe Fletcher was upset because she was so indecisive. It was far-flung, but it might as well be. She stayed with Tim, but she was focused on Tony and how to make him happy.

She felt something for the younger man, and this she was certain of. What she wasn't too sure about was whether she was ready to accept him and let go of the other.

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**To be continued. . . **


	6. Chapter 6

**Many thanks to DS2010, mmkbrook, thegirlnextdoor101, Kushie, whatweareafraidof, Cuptate Mango, and two guests for your reviews, as well as to all who follows and favorites!**

**There's only one chapter left after this! I'd really love to see what you think!**

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Ziva buried herself on a lazy chair at a quiet corner in Abby's living room. She prided herself with her ability to concentrate on one of Shakespeare's classics despite the mild commotion at the kitchen where the men—and woman, since Breena was engaged, too—crowded together at the dinner table in a heated debate of who would win the Super Bowl this year. To add to that was the television in front of her, tuned in to a rather lively game of Family Feud. The hostess disappeared then reappeared every now and then. She had offered assistance earlier on, but she was told to sit down and relax. _You're a guest. You don't have to do anything,_ as she had said.

More than a week had passed after she last saw Tim. When they came back to work that week following, the case took a surprising turn when they found Lieutenant Hough at a secluded home in Virginia via a tip from one of Tim's students. What was even more unexpected was finding out that Angel Dawson, Tim's ex-girlfriend and colleague, had been the one who provided the shelter and supplies to him.

She was just all too happy to slap the handcuffs on her wrist.

The confession took some time to draw out, but it did nonetheless. Gibbs pitted Dawson's and Hough's words against each other. They wouldn't crack under pressure at first. But the mention of getting the needle had Dawson singing like a canary, and Hough had no choice but to beat her into getting the best deal by spilling the truth. When confronted about his interest on the witness, he pointed a finger at Dawson, saying that he did not even know that Tim knew until she warned him about it.

She was asked what her intention was for endangering him, but she flatly refused to talk further without a lawyer.

It was an almost victory for the team, but the effects it had on Ziva immediately wore off when she noticed that the conditions between her, Fletcher's team, and Tim had soured considerably. Fletcher had completely banned her from the safe house for no apparent reason. It frustrated her, especially when he and Agent Mars coupled it with dirty glances.

She attempted to talk to Tim, but Fletcher made his point of her steering clear from them by talking to Gibbs about it. This she found out the morning after, when she was instructed to stay out of their way.

She was willing to ignore their unreasonable reaction from, what she presumed, a joke between her and Tony that the team leader overheard. However, she doubted her theory when Tim also seemed to have disengaged from her. He had never answered her calls, even once. He did not even try to talk to her on those instances he visited back at NCIS. He showed an entirely different behavior, and it made her wonder whether it was something she had told him or something she had done the night prior that had him increasing the schism between them.

She was too embarrassed and terrified and angry to keep pushing that she decided to let things be for some time. Yet, her mind compensated for his absence by blindly leading her to the places that reminded her of him, like the park, the campus, and the library. A week ago, she had found herself at a bookstore downtown, in front of a classics shelf, staring at a copy of _A Midsummer's Night's Dream._ It was hard to put down after she had purchased it.

Tonight, she was almost finished reading it for the third time. Even so, she was still mystified as to how it had to do with any reality, as Tim had said it had.

"That serious, huh?"

Ziva lifted her eyes up from the book.

Abby grinned from the other lazy chair where she sat. "He must really be one slick guy to get you reading Shakespeare," she added.

Ziva smiled weakly. "Do you need any help with the food?" she asked instead.

"No, I'm okay," Abby said. "Tony's almost finished with the grilled steaks, and Jeanne should be back any minute now with the wine. Then, we can start eating."

Ziva nodded. "Sounds good," she said and then resumed reading.

Abby leaned closer. "You didn't answer me, Ziva," she said.

Ziva looked up at her again, her discomfort a little more manifest.

"I won't tease you about it, I promise," Abby encouraged.

Ziva stared at her. Then, she shook her head with a rekindled smile. "It is very complicated, Abby," she said.

"How complicated can it be? He likes you, you like him. End of story."

"It's not just that," Ziva said, her eyebrows mildly knitted. She sat up. "Fletcher's banned me from seeing him, and Gibbs told me to stay away, too." She paused. "He doesn't seem to want to talk to me anymore, either."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Didn't you stay with him at the safe house a couple of nights ago?" Abby asked. It garnered a glance from Ziva. She shrugged. "Scuttlebutt," she explained.

Ziva sighed after a while. "Apparently, I didn't," she answered her prior question.

Abby just nodded, cuing an unsettling silence between them. Ziva turned to the next page before she cryptically asked, "Why are you here, Ziva?"

Bewildered, Ziva frowned. "Because you invited me," she said.

"No. I meant, why are you here with us when you can be with him?"

"Well," Ziva thought of a proper response, "I'm needed here. There's Gibbs and Ducky and Jimmy and Tony and you—"

"Tony," Abby repeated. "You keep dropping whatever you're doing when he calls for you."

"He's my friend, Abby," Ziva pointed out.

"He's my friend, too," Abby reasoned. "But I don't devote all my time to him."

Offended by the route of the conversation, Ziva averted her eyes.

Abby was remorseful, but she was unwilling to retract her statement. Instead, she added in a gentler manner, "Don't do this to yourself. You're the only one who will lose out if you keep waiting for something that may never come."

"I am not waiting for anything."

"Really," Abby raised her eyebrows skeptically. "Who's the one hiding from McGee again and using this dinner as an excuse?" Ziva said nothing. "Clearly, he's made an impression on you because he got you on that," she nodded at the book. "Don't you feel something for the guy?"

"I do," Ziva mumbled. "But…"

Abby detected her hesitance. "Let me just ask you this one question. If Tony and Jeanne's relationship didn't work out, and you two got together, are you positively sure you won't feel anything anymore for McGee?"  
Ziva glanced at her with a frown.

_If in that other world, other time, you wanted me and I wanted you, would you have told me?_

Yes.

Abby smiled. "Because if you know you'd keep thinking about him, it'll be unfair for all three of you. Especially him."

Ziva opened her mouth, unsure whether to concede or to protest, to admit or to disagree. The front door opening saved her the trouble of embarrassing herself and further complicating the conversation.

Tony walked in with a plateful of grilled food, grinning somewhat uneasily. "Order up!" he called out, grabbing everyone's attention.

Abby looked back at her after Tony moved past towards the dining table. She smiled sadly and then patted Ziva's hand. "Think about it," she said. She stood up and headed towards her guests.

Ziva watched as everyone at the table moved around to help either Tony—by setting up the food—or Abby—by making sure all wares were in place. The scene developed within her a vague sense of strangeness from them. It was as if she was not where she needed to be. True, they were her family, but now it was incomplete.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Tony sat down next to her. "So," he began. "You've decided to be the lone wolf today, huh?"

She shrugged. "You really took grilling seriously, didn't you?" she asked, smirking.

Tony grinned. "Well. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," he responded.

She nodded before going back to reading her book.

"You watching TV?"

"No."

Tony rubbed his palms against his knees while he chuckled. "So I can change the channel, then?" he asked after grabbing the remote.

She glanced at him suspiciously. "I suppose," she laughed quietly.

"Good," Tony muttered. He surfed through the guide. "There's a football game coming on a few minutes, and Jeanne loves one of the teams that are playing. She wants to watch it, I think."

Ziva struggled to maintain even the slightest smile on her lips. Her emotion shifted from embarrassment to hurt to loneliness after the channel changed from Family Feud.

She missed Tim dearly.

Both of them looked up when Jeanne walked in, hugging a sizeable brown bag filled with a few bottles of wine. Tony rushed to help her while she just watched. "I'm sorry I came back late," Jeanne said with a bashful smile. "The stores are packed all over. The checkout lines are impossible, so I called in a favor from a friend who works at a winery downtown."

"Aw. You didn't have to do that," Jimmy said with a bright expression that matched his wife's.

"I do. This is my first dinner with Tony's family. It's the least I can do," she glanced at Tony. "Plus, she's been asking me for forever to try these new wines that they had in stock. It came highly recommended. So, I called her, we stopped by the store to get them and…here we are."

Breena nodded. "It's very sweet of you to do this, Jeanne," she said.

"Oh, not at all," Jeanne replied.

Abby clapped her hands together. "Alright," she announced. "Fletcher and co said that they will be a little late and gave us the go signal. So, I guess we're ready to eat!" She pulled up the chair next to Gibbs. Jeanne, on the other hand, walked towards the two empty seats beside Jimmy and Breena, unable to notice that the man next to her remained cemented with anxiety on his spot.

Ziva hesitantly stood up to join the group, feeling emptier and emptier by each step ahead that she took. Abby was right. What was she doing there? Clearly, it was not because she was where she belonged at that time. Why did she keep on fighting to stay?

"Tony? Darling?" Jeanne worriedly regarded the man, and it had all others turn their attention towards him. "Is there anything wrong?"

Tony bit his lips. Then, he scratched his head and visibly mustered all the courage he had. "I'm…I'm not good with speeches," he started weakly. "And I tried. I'm not a very romantic person, but Abby…"

Five pairs of eyes shot towards the Goth. Her eyes widened with fear. "No, I did nothing!" she waved her hands frantically. "It's not about me!"

"No, it's not like that," Tony allowed a chuckle after perceiving the misinterpretation.

"What's going on, Tony?" Jeanne asked. "Is there something I missed while I was gone?"

Tony walked towards her. "Oh, no, sweetheart. It's…" He hesitated for a moment. He took a deep breath before continuing. He looked Jeanne deeply in the eyes. "When I first met you, I was told not to actually fall in love with you. It's forbidden, and I knew."

Jeanne turned into a light shade of red out of embarrassment from the recounting of the past.

Tony grinned charmingly as he continued. "But it's ironic, because I felt…gravitated towards you. The reaction was too fast that I couldn't help it. We had not so pleasant times, and there's always going to be more. The thing is, I'm happy with you."

"Well, I'm happy with you, too, darling, but I don't think we should be holding up dinner," Jeanne said with a smile.

"That's good. I mean, not the holding up the dinner part, but that you're happy with me. Because I want to ask you something."

Jeanne tilted her head in curiosity, failing to notice Breena's suppressed gasp, Gibbs' fatherly smirk, and Abby's smile of approval.

Tony took out a diamond ring from his pocket and got down on one knee. Surprise morphed Jeanne's expressions. "How would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?" he asked.

In Ziva's perception, time slowed down. The cheers and claps elicited from Jeanne's tearful nod were drowned out by the sound of her own heart beating madly. Her veins pulsed with a manic sense of confusion of how her own happy future should be. She imagined sitting on a swing, wrinkled and half languid, content with the person who never dared leave her. She imagined watching her own children, the same ones that she and her husband cared for for years, leave home to start their own lives.

She imagined one day to start it all, with an honest vow, rightful words, and tables filled with miniature, hand-constructed houses made with colorful plastic blocks.

Reality shocked her as she beheld Tony's eyes, and that was not the life that she saw in them.

A giddy smile stretched across Ziva's lips. She grabbed her jacket from the chair, and then she hurried towards the couple. "Congratulations, Tony, Jeanne. I'm truly happy for you both," she expressed. She lifted her eyes up to Abby. "Abby. You know where I need to go," she said.  
Knowingly, Abby nodded.

She hurried out the door, oblivious to the questioning eyes that followed her departure.

There were so many things she wanted to tell Tim. Words jumbled together in her mind, and she was only grateful that she would have the sufficient time to straighten her apology while driving to wherever he was. It had been a long time, and she saw no reason to add more.

She took out her phone to call Fletcher about Tim's location but stopped when she met the agent out in the humid parking lot, heading to the apartment with Agent Mars in his tow. "Where's Tim?" she asked them.

Fletcher icily stared at her. Mars, on the other hand, eyed her with all contempt possible. "Haven't you done enough?" he asked.

"Please. Fletcher, I need to talk to him."

"What, so you can embarrass him again?" Mars asked sardonically.

"Tim and I had a misunderstanding," Ziva reasoned. "What it is, that's what I meant to find out. That's why I have to talk to him. Where is he?"

"Just stay away from him. Understand?" Fletcher said. Then, he started to leave.

Ziva stopped him by grabbing his arm. "Fletcher. Please," she said.

Fletcher debated whether to believe her or not. After a moment, he turned towards Mars. "You go ahead," he told her.

"Boss. Don't believe her," Mars protested.

"I'll deal with the issue accordingly," Fletcher said dismissively.

Mars begrudgingly followed the order. She glowered at Ziva then walked up to the apartment.

Ziva let go of Fletcher when he inched away. "How could you, David?" he asked.

The disappointment in his tone surprised her. "How could I what? Have I done something to you and your team that upset you?"

"It's not me or them that you bothered," Fletcher retaliated. "It's that poor guy. That professor? I just don't understand how you could just break his heart like that!"

"Like what?"

"Oh, come on. Like you don't know what I'm talking about."

"I don't!" Ziva said. "What did I do?"

"Don't play innocent. You know better," Fletcher responded acidly. "You keep coming back again and again to the safe house, making the guy think that you like him, and he hears it from you a week or so later that he shouldn't be expecting anything from it? I thought you had more heart than that."

The strength of his sentiments bewildered Ziva. However, it changed when she detected a familiar phrase. She narrowed her eyes. "When did this happen?" she asked curiously.

"I don't know. The last day you were there," Fletcher said.

"And I was talking to Tony on the phone."

"He overheard everything," Fletcher expounded impatiently. "He was just outside the door. He was bringing you a cup of coffee, and he heard you say you two we're not meant to be. You don't _see_ him as the right guy for you." Ziva thought about the conversation, but Fletcher read it as guilt. "I'm very disappointed, Agent David," he added sincerely.

Ziva frowned while she pondered. "A misunderstanding," she declared after realizing what the problem was. "Tony and I weren't talking about my relationship with Tim, we were talking about my relationship with you!"

"Oh." Fletcher knitted his brows. "I didn't know that was on the table."

"I have to explain it to him. Where is he?"

"Uh… Still at the safe house. But he's leaving for Norfolk in a few hours, and Corey should be with him." Fletcher watched while she sprinted towards her car. "What are you doing, David?"

Ziva got in the driver's seat. She closed the door then turned on the engine in haste. "I need to find Tim."

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**To be continued...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks to thegirlnextdoor101, Kushie, mmkbrook, Dani, and crocadile1986 for your reviews! And thanks to everyone that followed, favorited, and read the story. Your time is very much appreciated and loved! :) **

**Please feel free to leave reviews afterwards. I love them so, and I thrive with them! :D**

**Last chapter of "Awake"! I hope all of you will enjoy!**

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**Chapter Seven**

Ziva dialed Fletcher's number as soon as she pulled in the bedraggled driveway. She got out of her car, just in time to meet Agent Corey, who had regarded her with a heavy and rather hostile frown. The rain endlessly poured down from the clouds, but she did not allow it to slow down her approach. Tim was standing next to the trunk of Corey's car, housing a weary, forlorn mood.

She had a lot of things to say to him, and she only wished he would listen.

"What are you doing here, Da—"

"Fletcher will explain," she pushed her phone towards Corey as she walked past. "Talk to him."

Corey took the phone, inwardly protesting. He did what he was told, nonetheless, even if only begrudgingly so.

"Tim."

Tim halted after hearing his name called. He stood in silence. Then, he turned towards her.

All the words Ziva had constructed to say when this moment came crumbled down to dusts. The shadow of betrayal and unimaginable sorrow in his eyes pierced her through the heart. "Please," she managed to say. "Allow me to explain."

"You don't need to," Tim said in surrender, and it disarmed Ziva further. He turned towards the car. "I should have known."

"No. What you heard. It did not mean as you think it did."

"Ziva," Tim spun around swiftly. "Stop it. Just… Let's just stop it, okay? I'm tired. I'm so tired of whatever game this is." He took in a deep breath, and the subtle quiver of his lips magnified the guilt that Ziva had started to feel. He wanted to admit how she had made him feel by what she had done but thought better of it.

However, Ziva still detected it. "I never meant to hurt you in any way," she said softly. She gathered strength to continue. "But what you heard. Tony was teasing me about Agent Fletcher, and I told him how I viewed him. I do not feel anything for him, but for you, I—" her lips began to stretch into a smile elicited by coyness and an open acknowledgement of her feelings, "I feel entirely different. Tim. I… I feel alive when I'm with you. Even in the silliest things that we do, I feel as if everything's better. Everything else vanishes when we're together."

She regarded him with a bright curl of the lips, expecting to see him do the same soon after realizing that what they had was due to an error.

However, his features only grew darker, gradually poisoning hers.

"Why am I always the second choice, Ziva?" Tim asked ever so silently.

Ziva's brows wrinkled, denying the existence of the question he asked. "What?"

"How come when he calls, I become second priority?" Tim asked clearly.

Ziva shook her head weakly, half out of denial and half out of rejection. "You're not."

"I needed you!" Tim expressed. He exhausted a shaky breath. "I needed you," he repeated despairingly. "To be with me. To stay. But when he called, I moved down your list of what's important. How many times is this to happen?"

Ziva's eyes began to sting as she recognized the same emotion of hurt that agonized Tim. She opened her mouth to speak, to tell him she was sorry for making him feel what she had felt whenever Jeanne called Tony, but no words came out.

Tim asked weakly, "Are you here because Tony's decided to spend the rest of his life with Jeanne?"

Ziva opted to lie, but her mouth was unable to carry this usually easy task.

Tim turned away, as if to shield himself from the brutal reality. "You know, for the first time in such a long time, you were the only one that made me feel…" he stopped.

Ziva bravely stepped closer. "Made you feel…?" she inquired.

"Sorry about myself," Tim admitted. It took Ziva aback. "Suddenly I feel bad that I'm not like other people. I'm not as fortunate in looks as others, and I'm not the smartest. I'm not normal, and because of that I cannot ever win your love."

Ziva watched as he struggled through the raindrops to go back into the house. She ran behind him, filling the emptiness within her by tightly wrapping her arms around his waist. She vowed not to let go should he turn her away. He did nothing, and at one time she imagined he was leaning into her touch. She closed her eyes and then rested her cheek against his back. "I love you. Just the way you are," she said gently.

Tim attempted to refuse her, but he found himself unable to tune out the honest beating of her heart. "We can only resort to so much make believe, Ziva," he said instead. "This is reality, and we can't drown it out."

Ziva released him, save for his hands that she dared never to let go. She walked around to face him, and then she stared into his eyes. She smiled. "I'll tell you what's my reality," she said. Then, she kissed him tenderly. He kissed her back, sending her the heaviness of his heart from the endless self-doubt and failed hopes. Courageously, she returned it, making it known to him that he should not fear anymore. She would never leave him again.

Tim pulled away from her lips and held her in his embrace. He rested his forehead against hers and then smiled.

Ziva smiled back sadly. "I should let you know," she whispered, "I'm not the most put-together woman you could have."

Tim kissed her on the nose. "That's alright," he said. "I love you none the less."

Ziva laughed quietly. "Good" was all she said and all she needed to.

They stood in the rain, content with just listening to each other's breathing. Tim savored holding Ziva in his arms, knowing that he had experienced no moment sweeter than this. Ziva, on the other hand, was joyful. A moment with the man she was meant to be with, all because of one change in course.

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**END.**


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